Thursday, April 9, 2009

i have some non poetry reflections to share. i wrote this on Palm Sunday.

"Our King came gentle and riding on a donkey. There was no royal carpet but rather the worn cloaks of common folk. There were no banners claiming the power of his kingdom but rather branches of palm trees. There were no impressive legions of soldiers with armor but rather a band of simple disciples. There was no siege laid on the city but rather a driving out of corrupt religious leaders. A few days later our King's coronation came with a crown of thorns rather than a crown of wreath or gold. His inauguration was a lonely, brutal, torturous death on a cross. This was our King's way.

How is it that we have strayed so far from his way? He came gentle riding on a donkey but so often we come with force riding a war horse. In the prophesy of Zechariah there is no doubt that peace is the way of our King. 'I will take away the chariots of Ephraim and the war-horses from Jerusalem and the battle bow will be broken. He will proclaim peace to the nations. His rule [kingdom] will extend from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth.'We must recover the way of our King and of his Kingdom. Our allegiance cannot be split between him and anything else. Our lives are to be mirror images of his life. In an era of increasing violence, war, greed and corruption we have to choose to follow in the path of our King. The time has come for the turning over of our violent, forceful, proud, and greedy ways. The time has come to joyfully declare who are King is and all the miracles he has done. Hosanna! Save us, Lord! Blessed is he who comes in the Name of the Lord!"

a poem i will be performing tomorrow night at our Good Friday service, disgrace.

Lamb and Lionby poetree

Behold a lamb who was slainthe souls of humanity to gainStanding triumphantly as a lion with golden maneIt seems so insanseBut the truth is quite plainThrough him mercy falls like rainwashing Abel's blood spilled by Cain.Freed from Egypt in the desert to trainto keep the love of God as main thain (thing)Throughout history we strainwith our collective braintrying so hard to explainbut only he can wash every stainFor unless it dies a graincannot be raised again to reign.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

This morning I climbed a hill Not for the thrillBut to sit alone in the snow The only sound I heardWas the flowOf a river far below.I know my soul will growNot from noisy distractionBut in stillness beforeThe only true number one attraction.

John 15

I’m a branch in the True Vine.Oh, it is so divineYou are mighty yet kind.Even if I could search the universeSuch love and mercy I would not findMy heart to yours Lord please bindLike a branch in a vine.You rescued me and cleanedOff all this world’s slime.Now you teach my heartTo beat in timeWith yours.